


Enjoy Your Movie. Asshole.

by butmicoooool



Category: Rooster Teeth/Achievement Hunter RPF
Genre: AU, F/M, Mild Language, Movie Theatre AU, cute fic, idk???
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-07-21
Updated: 2013-07-21
Packaged: 2017-12-20 22:10:04
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,763
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/892469
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/butmicoooool/pseuds/butmicoooool
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Michael Jones has been working at this small town movie theatre for a while now. It's not that he hates his job, it's more that his job hate him. He wonders sometimes how he's still employed.<br/>Oh, and there's this girl...</p>
            </blockquote>





	Enjoy Your Movie. Asshole.

**Author's Note:**

> I've worked at a small town theatre for 4 years now and this is all I have to show for it.

“If I have to mop up the puke of another snot-nosed, candy-stuffed kid I’m gonna punch someone.” Michael grumbles under his breath. In reality though, he will just get really internally pissed and not actually do anything about it. Michael knows he’s hanging on to this job by the skin of his teeth. Two out of three of the floor managers hate him, he’s made several kids cry in the few short months he’s been here, and all the regular customers are weary of him and his general lack of friendliness. 

Well, except for one regular. 

See, there was this one girl who had started to come in every Saturday. She had this thick hair that fell without a fuss around her shoulders. She always seemed to hide her eyes, ducking beneath her bangs. Michael didn’t know who she was, but the second time he served her her large-popcorn-coke-and-skittles-please she gave him this smile. Her smile seemed to encompass Michael’s entire world for a brief moment. That was the type of moment, he thinks, where, if he were in a video game, he’d be given the quest to prove himself to this princess by saving the kingdom. She would smile that smile and wish him, the brave knight, luck on his valiant journey to slay the whatever-the-fuck was terrorizing her poor subjects. 

But Michael is not a knight. So he just gives the girl back her change and intones for the hundred-millionth time “Enjoy your movie.” The girl nods in thanks and spends a few awkward seconds fumbling around trying to hold all the stuff she got in two hands so she could get out of the way for the next customer. 

Michael didn’t see anyone with her the first time she came in, but this time a tall-ish, twink of a guy comes over to help her carry her food. She says something to the guy, which Michael misses because some stupid asshole customer is trying to order something and can’t see that Michael is fucking _busy_ here. The guy looks over his shoulder at Michael and catches him staring. Michael immediately turns his attention to the disgruntled customer in front of him. He hears a weird sort of laugh from their direction. But when Michael flicks his eyes to where they were, they’re gone. He hands the jerk his small diet coke and bites off a snappy “Enjoy your movie” The customer walks off with a dirty look. Asshole. 

The Girl shows up enough Saturdays in a row to be classified as a regular. She seems to be really shy, at least to Michael. He doesn’t know her name. Most of the regulars are greeted by name, or nickname, or insult (depending on how long they’ve been a regular). RoosterTeeth Cinemas is a small theatre in a small town, but it’s the only placed that showed movies from the current year in the area, so it was doing alright. It was like that old teddy you had as a kid, and even though it’s worn and dirty and missing an eye and an ear, it’s still your favorite. So you keep it around, even if it might give you fleas or nits or something. I mean, it’s seriously gross, like it’s been sitting in a box in the damp of the basement for a couple years before you rescued it for nostalgia’s sake. But, despite of it’s flaws, each morning at around 3 pm the faithful managers and paid-to-be faithful employees would fire up the popcorn makers, mop up the lakes of spilled soda and open their often-broken doors to welcome in their loyal and unhappy customers. 

 

“Dude, ask her the fuck out already.” Geoff, the only floor manager that didn’t want to punch Michael in the face, looks at Michael’s sad expression as The Girl walks away and into her screen. “Or at least, fuckin’ ask her name.” The other two managers had moved their schedules around so that they hardly ever had to work with Michael. One of them, a Gus Sorola, didn’t usually turn up anyway. He was always phoning in claiming he had an ‘important thing I really gotta do today.’ Michael asked him once if his important things involved trying to remove the stick from his ass. That was his last shift with Gus. 

Michael hides behind the popcorn machine when The Girl comes out of the screen about half way through her movie. This time she had brought a long-haired, blonde girl with her. This girl (not The Girl) ordered her snacks with barely contained laughter. With a blushing Michael in front of her and The Girl hiding behind her. She took her stuff and skipped off with a giggle. Michael could hear The Girl hissing something at the other girl. He blinked at the space where they were for a minute, then served the next customer.

Michael is crouched while The Girl drinks soda and peruses the pick ‘n’ mix. Then Ray, one of the other lowly grunts employed by Roosterteeth Cinemas, slaps a bottle of puke-be-gone and a brush into Michael’s hands. “Clean-up on aisle three!” He declares happily  
“C’mon man I’m busy!” Michael whispers.  
“Nuh ugh, man. It’s your fucking turn.”  
“But she’s over there!” Michael tries to make a pleading puppy dog face. He fails.  
“No.” He disappears into the storage room behind the shop counter. 

Michael admits that his initial statement was incorrect. You do not actually mop up puke. That would be way too gross. Instead you sprinkle it with magical puke-be-gone powder, wait for the liquidy, chunky puke to coagulate into little powdery clumps, then sweep it up. The only downside is that the power smells worse than the vomit, and any bits that stain the carpet have to be scrubbed. By hand. With industrial strength carpet cleaner, while wearing industrial strength rubber gloves and a fucking industrial grade gas mask for the fumes. (That last one isn’t actually supplied, though it is probably needed the most.) 

That’s how The Girl finds him, on his hands and knees scrubbing at an unfortunately coloured stain in the carpet in the lobby. “Um, sorry to bug you.” Michael’s head snaps up at the sound of her voice. “But Ray said to tell you because, um, you are quote ‘burnie’s official bitch boy of the day’ um, end quote.”

Michael sighs dramatically, throwing the cloth he was using in the bin. “Yeah sure, what’s up?” He looks at The Girl expectantly, she just sort of... staring at him?  
“You ok?”  
“What? Oh. Yeah. Um, I spilled my drink,” She gestures over her shoulder, to the puddle of soda in the lobby. “Over there, sorry. I’m such a klutz!” He laughter has a nervous edge to it. Michael doesn’t notice.  
“Ok, one sec. Lemme get the mop.” He goes into the mop room, rips off his gloves and puts the Body Fluid Granules on the shelf, but he somehow misses and it falls to the ground and rolls into the far corner, just out of Michael’s reach. He leans forward, too forward. The foot he had been moving to prop the door open slips from beneath him and he’s suddenly on his hands and knees, trapped in the tiny, microscopic, chemical-filled mop room that doesn’t have a handle on the inside. They’ve been meaning to get that fixed for about three years now. 

Shit he thinks. And on second thought; fuckin’ shit.  
“Shit.” He says after a moment of staring at the door. And after another moment; “Fucking. Shit.”  
Standard protocol in this situation would be to knock and kick at the door until someone walks passed and lets you free. Unfortunately, the closest person to the closet is The Girl and Michael knows he’s gonna look like a fucking idiot for getting himself trapped in the fucking closet. He felt like R. Kelly. 

Then there’s a knock on the door. Michael hopes it’s Burnie, or Ray, or the Grim Reaper or... “Hey, are you ok in there?” The Girl asks.  
“Everything’s fine!” Michael forces out a kind of high-pitched chuckle, he pretends like it doesn’t sound pained.  
“Did you get locked in the fucking closet?” Michael is silent. He’s also pretending he doesn’t hear The Girl snickering on the other side of the door. To her credit though, she’s trying really, really hard not to laugh outright.

“Here, I’ll open-” She pushes the handle down and nudges the door open. It smacks Michael in the face. “Ohmygosh I’m so sorry!” The Girl blurts out, rushing forward to Michael, who had staggered back, clutching his nose. “Is it bleeding?” Michael is bent over double, leaning against the shelf. The Girl moves forward to help him. They hear the faint click of the door shutting behind them. 

“Fuck.” They curse in unison. 

They straighten up. Michael is, fortunately, not bleeding. It’s just a little bruise to his ego, perhaps. Both of them seem to notice at the same time how close they’re standing. They both look away, blushing, arms bumping off each other just a little. 

“Wow, I’m such an idiot” The Girl says.  
“I’m the one who got stuck in the first place, so I think I win that title.” Michael smiles. The Girl smiles. They stand there, two dorks, with nothing and everything to say to each other.  
Michael thinks he might open his mouth to say something, but the door cracks open and Ray pops his head in. “Man, you guys got some R. Kelly shit going on here.”  
“Thanks for saving us, Ray!” The Girl says. Michael knows he’s gonna punch Ray for taking the attention of The Girl away from him. Ray knows it too, so he plays it up.  
“It’s no problem, ma’am.” He salutes her as she slips passed him. “It’s an honour to serve you.” “Oh, you are truly my most loyal of servants” The Girl says in a fake posh voice. Both The Girl and Ray are giggling as they walk back into the lobby. Michael trails behind them with the mop.  
“Sorry again about my drink.” She says when they reach the puddle.  
“No worries! Happens all the time. Here, I got you another. On the house.” Ray hands her the cup and she walks away with a big, beaming smile. 

Ray’s own smile drops the second he turns back around to face Michael. 

They both know Michael would be fired if he’d out and out knocked Ray’s lights out, so Michael settles for just sort of tackling Ray to the ground and hitting him with feeble half-punches until Burnie comes over and barks at them. 

Burnie has a kind of love/hate relationship with Michael, as in, he loves to hate Michael. Michael clean this, Michael lift that, Michael get me coffee, Michael clean my car. Michael just shrugs and does whatever. It’s times like this, where Burnie is looming over him, red faced and nostrils flared, that Michael wonders how the fuck he’s still employed. Then he thinks back to that conversation between Geoff and the other two managers he heard and reminds himself to be extra nice to Geoff. That guy really has a soft spot for Michael. 

The next couple Saturdays whizz by. Michael serves The Girl her usual order, sometimes she brings the boy with the British accent, sometimes the girl with the blonde hair. This week, however, she arrives by herself. 

“No boyfriend today?” Michael asks as The Girl picks up her soda. Never in his life has he regretted saying something so much as he regretted saying that. The Girl looks at him, wide eyed. “Um, I. I- don’t have one?” She winces.  
“Oh, sorry. I just thought-” Michael winces internally. Ray is wincing somewhere in the background, thinking _well, this is awkward._  
“I just thought the guy with the dumb, um. I mean- British accent was-”  
The Girl laughs loud and sudden. “Oh, God. Gavin? God no, never. Not in a million years. He’s like, that dorky kid brother your mom makes you bring everywhere. No, he’s just my friend.”  
Michael’s sighs in relief, the awkwardness fizzles out.  
“Good.” He says it before his brain even thinks it and the awkwardness snaps right back into place. The Girl just stands there, clutching her popcorn to her chest. She’s smiling, and Michael gets the strong impression that he’s meant to be saying something right now. 

“Um....” he swallows. The Girl’s smile grows wider.  
“Enjoy your movie.”  
Her smile falters ever so slightly. She walks away with a nod and a thanks.  
Ray falls to the floor laughing. 

 

Ray had gone on break and Geoff said he’s going to the bathroom and isn't sure when he’ll be back, so Michael is alone on the floor sweeping up popcorn that has appeared from fucking _nowhere_. Someone clears their throat behind him. He looks over his shoulder. 

It’s The Girl. (Who the fuck else would it be.) 

“Hey” She says.  
“Hey.” Michael props the sweeping brush up against the wall. “You want another drink or something?”  
“No.” The Girl tugs at the hem of her shirt. “You haven’t even asked my name.”  
“What?”  
“My name. What is it?”  
“Ugh.” Michael’s mind goes blank. His one and only thought is how sad The Girl looks when she sighs like that.  
“And I don’t even know your name, because I've been waiting for you to ask mine.” No, wait.. “But obviously if anything is gonna get done around here-” Not sad...“-then I'm gonna have to do it myself.” She’s fed up. The Girl grabs Michael by his black waistcoat and pulls him forward, kisses him quickly on the lips, nothing more than a playground peck. She lets him go and Michael could have sworn he heard the heavens sing as an angel descended. That angel was currently introducing herself to him. 

“My name is Lindsay Tuggey. I'm taking acting classes in the college. I don’t actually like skittles I just keep ordering them by accident. But it’s ok because Geoff usually changes them for me when you’re in cleaning the screens.” 

“I'm Michael Jones.” 

Lindsay’s face lights up. “Hi, Michael.”  
“Hi, Lindsay.” Michael can feel his own face lighting up too.  
“So, Michael. I was wondering if you’d like to go out sometime. Or... something.”  
“Yeah, yeah that’d be cool.”

Suddenly there’s a cheer from somewhere behind them. “YES! I WIN! I WIN!” Geoff fistpumps his way over. “I fucking knew it.”  
“How much does Burnie owe you?” Lindsay is laughing with Geoff. Michael is suddenly vaguely aware that things have been happening behind his back. “What’s going on?”  
Geoff’s smile drops. “Ugh, nothing. I gotta get back to work.” He slinks off.  
Lindsay turns back to Michael.  
“Ok, honesty time. I haven’t paid for my movie tickets in like two months, because Geoff and Burnie were betting on which of us would ask the other out first. The loser has to pay my tab.” 

Lindsay is wearing this grin from ear to ear and all Michael can think about is how he really wants to kiss her mouth, but also he wants to hear her talk more and he wants to know everything about her and he wants to hold her hand and he wants to do dumb shit with her (like getting locked in closets) that leaves them both out of breath from laughing. Because, let’s face it, they’re both incredibly huge and adorably awkward dorks. 

“They were betting on me?”  
“Um, yeah. Burnie was convinced you were gonna grow balls and ask me out, he was super Team Michael. But Geoff was like “nah, man. It’s gonna be Lindsay” and Geoff is really cool so I’d figure I’d let him win. Plus you were taking way too long, dude. How long has it been since I’ve started coming here?”  
“About six months.”  
“Six months and even Gus knows you have a crush on me.”  
“Hey, how do you know Gus?” He feels like he should be feeling angry, but he just feels stupid and slow.  
Lindsay shrugs “I come here a lot, you’re the only person who’s name I didn’t know and who didn’t know mine. Everyone always just referred to you as The Idiot.”  
“Wow, I’m fuckin’ slow.” Michael blinks.  
Lindsay is smiling though, so that must be a good thing.  
“You’re cute though.” She pecks his cheek again.  
“Jeez, thanks,” But he’s grinning, they both are. 

Lindsay can’t remember what movie she was in watching, and she never does see the second half of it.

**Author's Note:**

> This fic is dedicated to everyone except Gabbi (yellowcrayonwillow) because she called dibs on coffee shop au so all I was left with was writing about my own crappy (wonderful) job.


End file.
